A full month had passed since the three sisters had first crossed the threshold of the Rubenhart Estate. They were now officially recognized as daughters of the House of Rubenhart, carrying his prestigious name. Slowly but surely, the trio was growing acclimated to their entirely new reality.
Until this sudden adoption, they had been mere commoners living deep in the forests within a coven or a village. Consequently, the opulent lifestyle of the nobility was completely foreign terrain.
Was it comfortable?
Definitely so.
Yet, adjusting to it was mandatory; no matter how plush their new beds were, they were noble daughters now and were expected to act with the utmost grace.
This was especially challenging given the nature of the Head of the House. Ulrich was an exceptionally strict and demanding House Head who expected nothing short of perfection from his new wards.
Whenever they committed even the slightest breach of etiquette, he would fix them with his trademark, deadpan stare, a chilling almost loathing look that made the girls feel as though they had just murdered someone and had been caught trying to hide the corpse right in front of him.
"A very irritating face," was how Hermione frequently described it.
Regardless of Ulrich's demanding presence, today was Hermione's most anticipated day. After a whole month of rigorously proving herself capable of reading and writing to a standard that satisfied the Count, though still not as flawless as he would have preferred, Ulrich had finally granted them permission to begin formal lessons in the arcane arts and spellcasting.
Hermione had barely slept a wink the night before. Fueled by nervous energy, she had pestered Airam about her excitement until the early hours of the dawn, much to her sister's annoyance.
As a result, Airam had hardly managed to rest. This likely explained why her expression currently looked as haggard, hardened, and dark as a veteran assassin contemplating a murder, or, perhaps, that was simply her usual demeanor.
Airam stood rigidly on the sprawling back lawns of the Rubenhart grounds, flanked by an excited Hermione and a yawning Esther. They were positioned quite a distance from the main manor itself. Ulrich had explicitly demanded this remote location; he did not trust the sisters just yet. He was particularly wary of Hermione, suspecting she might be tempted to overexert her newly learned magic and inadvertently cause an explosion. Considering they harbored the latent potential to become the most powerful witches of their era, Ulrich simply refused to take any unnecessary risks with his property.
Standing before the expectant sisters was an elderly man possessing a magnificently long, silver-gray beard. He was one of the elite tutors summoned exclusively at Ulrich's strict behest.
His name was Brian Strelley, a Grandmaster, holding one of the highest ranks a mage could achieve. Hermione, who had voraciously read every tome she could find about prominent mages, knew exactly who he was and what his rank represented.
This realization only amplified her swirling mix of profound nervousness and giddy excitement.
"Hm."
Brian's calm experienced eyes analyzed each of the girls in turn. He hummed thoughtfully, slowly stroking his long beard with one hand while keeping the other casually rested behind his back.
This quiet contemplation would have been perfectly acceptable had he not been doing it for the past three minutes straight. Three unbroken minutes of utter silence was a long time to be stared at.
"Hmm," the old mage hummed once more, narrowing his eyes slightly as his gaze settled on Airam.
"…."
In response, Airam merely shot him an icy, unblinking glare.
She disliked the way he was inspecting her. It wasn't that his expression held any malice or disdain; rather, he was offering her a look of thoughtful acknowledgment. However, relying on Airam's ingrained survival instincts, anyone who stared at her or her sisters for more than five seconds was immediately categorized as a potential enemy who might need to be eliminated.
Entirely unaware of Airam's dark thoughts, and the razor-sharp knife she kept meticulously hidden up her sleeve, Brian finally shifted his gaze toward Hermione.
Hermione shifted nervously under his intense gaze, though she forced herself to meet his gaze with a display of bravery. She was desperate to prove to the Grandmaster that she was strong, capable, and worthy of his teachings. Had any of the estate's staff witnessed the typically fiery Hermione acting so respectful and timid in front of a man, they would have been quite shocked.
The Grandmaster's lips curved into a faint, amused smile before he shifted his attention to the youngest sister.
Esther was caught entirely off guard, dead in the middle of a massive yawn when his gaze landed on her. Hastily slapping a hand over her mouth, she let out a muffled, undignified squeak, her cheeks instantly flaring crimson with embarrassment. She hadn't slept much either, thanks to Hermione's nocturnal rambling.
"Esther! You cannot disrespect a Grandmaster like that!" Hermione said, instantly slipping into her scolding older-sister persona.
"I—I'm so sorry!" Esther stammered in panic.
Inwardly, however, she couldn't help but roll her eyes at her sister's blatant hypocrisy. Hermione constantly disrespected Ulrich and the household staff behind closed doors. The only reason she refrained from mouthing off to Ulrich directly was her lingering, very real fear of being locked inside his terrifying 'crimson prison' spell ever again.
Brian merely chuckled warmly as he observed the girls. "It is quite alright. All three of you are still young, after all," he said gently.
"Um, Grandmaster... what exactly are we going to learn first?" Hermione asked timidly, though she vibrated with barely contained excitement.
"Before we begin weaving any spells, we must first determine the nature of your Mana Cores," he explained, gesturing behind him.
A middle-aged woman, his assistant, stepped forward from the shadows. She carried an immaculate white velvet cushion, upon which rested an object draped in a silk tissue. With a motion, she removed the cloth to reveal a breathtakingly beautiful, opalescent crystal. The sphere glinted with shifting, iridescent hues that seemed to change depending on the angle from which it was viewed.
"What is that?" Esther breathed, her eyes sparkling as they reflected the mesmerizing object.
"This is a Veritas Sphere, more commonly known as a Core-Reading Sphere," Brian explained, his smile broadening. "With this wondrous artifact, we will be able to see exactly what kind of Mana Core each of you possesses."
"What kind of core?" Esther echoed, tilting her head in confusion.
"Indeed. Most individuals blossom a Core around the age of ten. Since all of you are ten or older, your magical pathways should have already taken a definitive Shape. Because you were born to a Witch, it is highly likely you possess ordinary Cores, but rest assured, that will be more than enough to learn basic spellcraft," he assured them warmly.
He nodded to his assistant, who approached Airam first, holding out the cushion. "Place your hand upon it, young lady," Brian said.
Without a second thought, Airam reached out and pressed her palm against the smooth glass.
The sphere reacted instantly. With a sudden, echoing hum, a blinding radiance exploded outward, splitting into four distinct, brilliant beams of pure light which darkened however slightly at the end.
Brian's hand froze mid-stroke on his beard. His lips parted in silent shock. Even his typically stoic assistant blinked, dumbfounded for a long moment.
"Next..." Brian managed to whisper.
The assistant quickly shuffled over to Esther. Hesitantly, the youngest sister placed her small hand on the crystal.
"Eeek!" she let out a startled squeal as a strange, tingling sensation rushed up her arm.
An instant later, a dazzling torrent of golden white light erupted from the sphere, this time shooting out into six magnificent, blinding beams. Esther blinked away the spots in her vision and looked up timidly. Brian's eyes had snapped wide open in disbelief, his jaw open.
Recovering her wits, the speechless assistant moved toward Hermione, looking at the middle sister with an obsessed curiosity.
Hermione, thrilled, immediately slapped her palm onto the sphere, eager to see her own result.
Crack!
The Veritas Sphere fractured instantly. It shattered with a sharp noise, unleashing a devastatingly powerful, blinding radiance. Twelve magnificent beams of pure magic exploded outward, forming a perfect, dazzling star shape that illuminated the entire yard of different colors.
"T—That hurts..." Hermione muttered, wincing and rubbing her sore eyes. Blinking the residual light from her vision, she looked up at the Grandmaster with a bright, expectant grin. "Well? Then what does it mean?!" She asked excitedly.
Brian Strelley, a Grandmaster mage who had seen decades of arcane wonders, simply stood there, speechless . His jaw hung open in shock and disbelief.
All three of the sisters possessed Prismatic-Shaped Cores.